On Stage and Off
by Ranowa Hikura
Summary: Leon/Yuri, hints of Sora/Layla. Rated M, warnings inside. Yuri is sorry Sophie is dead, and wishes he hadn't left her to die. Some nights, that's still not enough for Leon.


It's been six years, and I still love Kaleido Star. That being said, it's been so long since I've had time to sit down and watch it, I don't remember THAT much about the characters- especially Yuri and Leon. I'd be surprised if they weren't a little OOC, but... I did really try...

Now, about this fic: I actually adore Sora/Leon, but ever since I first watched the series, a Leon/Yuri seed has been planted, and it's still growing. And I wasn't about to make Sora the girl pining after the man she'll never have, so... this happened. In my head, it was Sora/Layla as well, but I couldn't even imagine how to write that, so, it didn't. I'd like to say that my writing style has improved by leaps and bounds since I first wrote Kaleido Star (not necessarily in terms of smut, though...), so, hopefully this won't be as horrific as my first attempts. Enjoy!

**Rated M for explicit yaoi and questionable consent. **

What the audience saw and what was true were two very different realities.

Layla and Yuri, picturesque and lovely, all smiles and waves for the crowd, the princess of golden hair that seemed crafted to fit into the slim, almost feminine blond's arms- most of the audience, and, perhaps, even some of the cast would've been surprised to find out the only kiss they'd ever had had been on stage. They seemed to fit together without flaw- without question, the perfect couple.

And once their tenure as stars had ended, the audience moved on to their next fascination, a second Romeo and Juliet to applaud. If the attraction of Layla and Yuri was that the two appeared to be mirror copies of each other, so similar, an icy queen and her king to match, then the attraction of Sora and Leon would be that they were mirror opposites. Sora was life embodied, all heart and laughter, a beautiful princess to her apathetic prince. Leon, as tall and distant as a demigod, ethereal hair and moon-kissed skin, title of a demon, almost someone not entirely of this earth- he stood opposite the girl with eyes as warm as the sun and smiles gloriously genuine, the angel that flew as one with her audience- they were even more popular than Layla and Yuri. The glorious angel swooping in to melt her icy demon's heart, as untraditional as Layla and Yuri were stereotypical, appearances clashing, demeanors as glaringly different as white and black- for it was always said that differences created greater chemistry.

On stage, king and queen, angel and demon they were.

Off stage was another matter.

Sora loved Leon fiercely, but never in the manner the audience believed. She wasn't made for fixing what was broken, nor the heartbreak brought by loving a man stuck so firmly in the past. And Leon, to his credit, cared for Sora deeply, but he didn't love her. To love was a fiery thing, of passion and heat, and not even Sora could melt the special shield of ice around his heart. That particular cold had been left untouched for decades, and did not respond well when met with the unbridled heat of Sora.

And Layla was not the pliable, swooning woman that melted into Yuri's arms that the audience saw. Yuri had stuck with her through thick and thin, and for that, their friendship held, but certain lines were not to be crossed. Yuri's doubt in her, his plea for her not to attempt the Mystical Act- any possible beginnings, any attempts at a burgeoning romance were ended there. His actions had been purely inspired for Layla's safety, and she knew that, but what it came down to was, they were just too different. Their appearances were as similar as their hearts were dissimilar; Layla lived for the stage, and Yuri- he stood elsewhere. His dreams were not in performance and stars; safety and security were too ingrained in him since his father's death. Friends they were, but never anything more.

* * *

Post-performance Sora was one of Layla's favorite Soras. Her cheeks were flushed, ever-present smile just a little but dazed, awed, ears clearly still ringing with her beloved audience's applause. Even as Sora had grown, rising up from a determined young girl into a talented star, child into a self-assured woman, _this_ Sora never changed. She never lost the thrill making people smile brought, never lost the sense of surprise that _she_ was able to fly and perform and mean something to all of those people, never lost the joy from seeing people happy because of her.

But post-performance Sora wasn't immune, and when Layla saw her staring and distant, the look in her eyes just a little bit sad, lips turned downwards instead of up, she already knew exactly what was to blame for dousing such unbreakable spirit; exactly what was to blame for being able to take Sora's smile away.

Or _who_.

Getting through to Sora now was a process, she knew, one she would always be willing to do, and those enigmatic brown eyes colored with a faint relief the moment Layla sat down beside her. Glad that someone could understand, would listen; thankful that absolution for her own crushing guilt sat by her side, even if, now, it still felt as untouchable and removed as Leon himself was.

Layla nudged the cup of coffee meant for herself closer to Sora. The performer needed the caffeine far more than she did, but the importance lay more in the gesture than the drink itself. Both women stared straight ahead, Sora lost in thought, Layla, merely waiting out the calm before the storm.

"You were wonderful out there tonight."

_For you long ago surpassed me, but my praise still helps you more than the applause of an audience a thousand-strong. _

Sora nodded at length, the motion slow and halting. "...Thank you, Layla-san," she managed, voice a rough whisper, but her eyes were more present now, the emotion in them less lost and more regretful.

Another moment passed in silence. It was heavy with unspoken feelings, Sora's guilt for the actions transpiring elsewhere tonight, Layla's regret for what had happened all those years ago, a mutual desire to change the pattern they were now so accustomed to.

When Sora's eyes had turned distant again, lost in memory, Layla lifted a hand to draw her out of it. What was happening now was not her fault, and to let her believe that it was was the beginning to a very slippery slope indeed. "Sora," she murmured, her cool hand coming to rest over Sora's warm ones.

The younger woman flinched slightly at the touch, the intrusion unexpected, but it was all that was needed to break her out of guilt's powerful hold. Her head dropped, hair shielding signs of suffering that remained audible all the same; her shoulders shook, her breath hitched, and when Layla moved her hand to let it rest on Sora's back, the girl let out a sob.

"She would've been twenty-five today. He said... h-he said... _she would've been twenty five today." _

And that, then, explained everything.

"He loved her too much, Sora," Layla whispered, but she worried her words fell on deaf ears. "There's nothing you can do. He's your friend, not your burden to heal-"

"Exactly. He's my friend. He's my friend, Layla-san-h-he's my friend that I love and I can't stand to see him like this!" Sora hunched over on herself, burying her head in her hands, and her breaths shuddered again with the force of another sob. "I j-just wish- I just wish he could let her go! I know he loved her, I know she meant the world to him, but..."

"You wish he didn't have to suffer like this anymore."

Sora nodded slightly, and Layla closed her eyes. The darkness was preferable to the sight of Sora's smile being shattered by the only one who was capable of such a thing, and even as her arm tightened around the younger star, she knew her presence wasn't what Sora needed.

Sora poured her love into Leon like she did all her friends, and this was the first time it wasn't enough. Nothing she could do would take away these nights, these moments when the past was more important to him than the present. _Nothing_ she did could ease the weight of memories on Leon's tormented soul, and that, she knew, was Sora's breaking point.

And just as Sophie was the only one Leon wanted now, Leon was the only one Sora wanted. Tonight, Leon needed his sister, and Sora needed forgiveness for what she felt was a failure to save her closest friend- forgiveness that came from Leon himself.

Neither things were possible, and so, both- they took what they could get.

* * *

"Twenty five, Yuri. She would have been twenty five."

Yuri bit his tongue so hard, he bled.

"Alive, Yuri. She would've been alive."

He cried out into the pillow clamped between his teeth, a muffled expression of suffering that only drove Leon on faster.

"_Happy,_ Yuri. She would've been _happy_."

He writhed in agony, perhaps more mental than physical, when Leon's voice broke on a choked sob, struggles only ceasing when the older man caught his arm and twisted it up behind his back. Leon pushed at it, forcing it up higher until it was in danger of breaking, only letting go when Yuri cried out again.

Leon thrust again, and Yuri's muscles, already trembling with exhaustion, were too drained to even react to the pain again.

_I'm sorry, _he whispered, or maybe he just mouthed it, and he _was. _He was sorry; he'd never been more sincere about anything in his life. He was _sorry _Sophie was dead.

But Leon didn't care, because apologies couldn't raise the dead.

He shook with pain, regret thrumming through his veins, when the hot agony pulsed through him again, and he could barely hear the low, ragged sound of the grunt drawn out from Leon's throat, surely derived from physical exertion more than pleasure, Yuri knew, because neither one of them was drawing pleasure from this.

"I hate you," Leon whispered, voice shaky and rough, harsh and unforgiving. "I hate you, Yuri."

And truer words had never been spoken, Yuri thought, the accusation in his speech obvious, a burning rage from life stolen too young simmering just below the surface- rage that Leon pounded into him until he saw black, that the silver-haired man let loose in his fists and blows until he was beaten black and blue, unheard howls of sorrow and rage muffled and lost in the violent kisses that beheld yet another token of dominance.

In the lull after another round of punishment, when Yuri was left wheezing and bleeding, a rough hand tangled in his sweaty strands of hair, yanking his head back until they were eye to eye. And here, now, in this low light of cursed darkness, grin the feral expression of a demon's, eyes glinting with thirst for vengeance, Leon looked more beast than man. Here, primal urge stood fast over moral inhibitions, and hatred held more power than anything else.

"I should thank you, ne, Yuri?" he taunted, breaths harsh, leaning in closer for his long hair to dangle between them, cold strands brushing over his skin. "You have a simply astounding guilt complex. I doubt you would ever allow this otherwise."

And Yuri spat the blood that had accumulated in his mouth out, the product of the mauling he'd given the insides of his cheeks and tongue. It wasn't an answer, nor had Leon been looking for one, and the silver-haired beast's false grin faded in favor of a predatory, piercing stare. The depths of his eyes shifted to reveal a deep longing, now, longing for someone he could not have, and his mouth twisted into a ferocious expression of fury.

"_She would've been alive, Yuri!" _

_And I'm sorry, Leon, because I wish she was..._

Leon thrust once more, pouring waves of hatred and agonizing sorrow into him, giving his burden to Yuri to hold. Because Yuri was sorry, and apologies meant nothing.

"_I hate you, Yuri!" _

_I wish I could say the same to you... _

"Does this hurt, huh?!" Leon screamed, voice rising with his climax to become high and desperate, the nails digging into his back so deep now they drew blood. "Does this hurt? Maybe now you know how she felt _when she was dying!"_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry _

Yuri sobbed, and when Leon screamed again, it was a cry for his sister.

* * *

Consciousness made itself known with the feeling of soreness, one far too great to consider moving, but with it also came a sense of atonement. It was a false one, yes, because nothing he gave or did would ever make up for Sophie's death, but it brought relief all the same- as if a weight he'd been carrying in his heart had been lifted, one he hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

The burning fire Leon had left inside of him had cooled somewhat, leaving behind only an encompassing soreness that would fade with time, even if the memories never would. Yuri lay on his stomach, blanket tangled in his feet, and his back no longer felt bared to the open air- he recognized the feel of cool, thin cloth against his skin; one of Leon's shirts. The same went for his pants- not his, and by the conspicuous lack of anything wet or sticky on the material, Leon must have done more while cleaning him up than dressing him.

He shifted slightly, eyes opening to the hazy sight of an orange bottle sitting on the bedside table, streams of light filtering through the window to turn the plastic fuzzy and blurry. Yuri blinked until the object came into focus to reveal a collection of tiny white aspirin. The very sight was tantalizing, and the soreness pulsed again, as if begging him to reach out and take some of the medication that had not been there the night before. Yuri just stared at it, utterly motionless, before he let his gaze roam from the table to the bed. He was met with the familiar sight of tangled, red stained sheets and horribly long strands of silver. The latter made him smile, or perhaps it was a smirk, because he never tired of teasing Leon about how he shed like a cat, and those memories secured him in the knowledge that the demon of last night was gone. Locked away in some dark corner of Leon's mind to brood and sulk, leaving behind a man more sullen than vengeful, more gentle than violent- more kind than cruel.

The sigh he released at that brought the heavy arm draped across his back to loosen and withdraw. He felt the bed shift as the man next to him rolled onto his back, leaving Yuri to turn his head to the other side, not trusting the lack of any serious pain to remain a reality if he tried to move anything more than that. Leon was staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, one arm behind his head, eyes hooded and features blank. "So, Yuri?" he murmured, usually taciturn man beginning the conversation, his voice as cold and indifferent as ever. "Do you hate me yet?"

Yuri sighed in negation. He wondered if he ever would, if he would ever get tired of Leon's inability to forgive and forget, then decided that it didn't matter- not when he had yet to learn how to do the same himself. "No. It's probably bad that I don't- but I don't think I ever will."

"Hn." Leon's flat expression didn't waver, his eyes staying focused on the ceiling, and Yuri slowly reached out to bury his hand in the warmth of his hair fanning out across the bed. He ran his fingers through it like one might pet a cat, and even though Leon's features didn't soften in the slightest, Yuri still felt the imperceptible loosening of his coiled muscles as some of the tension left him.

"What about you?" he asked at length, still not ceasing the slight strokes through Leon's long hair. "Do _you_ still hate _me?_"

"Yes."

Leon answered without hesitation, and his eyes turned dark again, just for a second. But then the moment passed, and Leon sighed, eyes closing and face relaxing into something less of a hard mask. "But now, it doesn't really matter that I do. ...It's easier to care about you more."

"Ah." Yuri's motion through his hair paused, and he tried a slight smile. "Nice to know."

Leon turned his head and opened his eyes again, this time meeting Yuri's gaze for the first time all morning. His expression was unreadable rather than blank, and the hand that had previously retreated now returned to rest on Yuri's elbow. He lay silently for a moment more, and then relaxation emerged, and he leaned forward to press his lips against his own.

It was gentle, this time, not demanding or harsh- just soft, tender, and gentle, and Yuri took comfort from that, took all the comfort Leon was willing to give before the man pulled away. The hardness in his eyes had receded just a little more, soft silver returning in place of stormy cobalt, and when Yuri managed another smile, the remaining darkness slipped away entirely.

Yuri spoke again when Leon didn't seem to want to move, voice still low and tired, coaxing out the man he stayed for from the man he'd destroyed, so many years ago. "...I _am_ sor-"

"Don't." Leon's hand was covering his mouth before he could finish the word, calloused fingers silencing apology. His eyes darted away after a moment, staring through a curtain of hair and narrowed in repressed emotion, features shifting ever so slightly to reveal regret. "..._I'm_ sorry."

"I know you are."

Neither one of them moved in the silence that followed. Yuri lay still, letting Leon stew in his own guilt until he saw true, honest sorrow taint the man's fair features, and then he raised a hand to Leon's cheek, blocking off his stare into his hair. Leon just blinked at his hand for a moment before Yuri nudged at his cheek, trying to turn his head to face him. "Hey."

When Leon finally did look back, Yuri smiled again, his hand shifting lower to curl around the back of his neck, tempting him to come closer.

"Kiss me."

Haltingly, Leon did.

"Like you mean it, love."

Leon chuckled against his mouth, the sound low and throaty, and Yuri felt his chest vibrate against his. The older man pulled back this time, but instead of a harsh blankness, there was a touch of mirth now- a lightness that signaled all regrets, both from last night and in years past, had been forgotten.

"Brush your teeth first," Leon retorted as he sat up straighter, the mattress shifting at the motion.

Yuri frowned, wondering if he should point out Leon hadn't yet done that, either, before slapping half-heartedly at the hand holding the other man up. It was a soundless gesture asking him to stay, one which Leon pointedly ignored as he stood up, as lithe and powerful as a wild cat.

"I'm going to get food. Stay here."

The mention made hunger suddenly drop in Yuri's stomach like a leaden weight. Leon wasn't even out of the room before a loud, ravenous growl rumbled throughout the room, making Leon stop in his tracks and Yuri clench his fists in embarrassment.

Leon turned his head to look over his shoulder, smirk very firmly in place, and Yuri glowered.

"Well?" he snapped, trying and failing miserably to sound angry. "Weren't you going to try and rectify this situation? Go on!"

Leon's smirk merely grew more pronounced, and he held Yuri's gaze for another moment before turning away and continuing on his trek for breakfast. His voice was very definitely colored with amusement when he called back, "Yes, Master," and Yuri couldn't help but grin.


End file.
